Well I grew up wild and free
Walkinâ"š¬â"ž¢ these fields in my bare feet
There wasnâ"š¬â"ž¢t no place I couldnâ"š¬â"ž¢t go
With a twenty-two rifle and a fishing pole
CHORUS:
Well I live in the city but donâ"š¬â"ž¢t fit in
You know its a pity the shape Iâ"š¬â"ž¢m in
Well I got no home and I got no choice
Oh Lord, have mercy on a country boy
When I was young I remember well
Iâ"š¬â"ž¢d hunt the wild turkey and the bob-white quail
The river was clear and deep back then
And fishinâ"š¬â"ž¢ lines tied to the willow limb
Well they dammed the river, they dammed the stream
They cut down the cypress and the sweet gum trees
Thereâ"š¬â"ž¢s a laundraâ"š¬â"ž¢ mat and a barber shop
And now the whole meadow is a parkinâ"š¬â"ž¢ lot